


Christmas Eve

by flawedamythyst



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-06
Updated: 2011-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-15 11:22:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/160336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas Eve in a warehouse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Eve

It was Christmas Eve and they were crouched behind a stack of crates in a warehouse, waiting for a gang of smugglers to come back so that they could...do something. John didn't know what the plan was, but he had a creeping suspicion that there wasn't really one. They'd been there for several hours, long enough for John's shoulder to begin to complain about the vicious cold and for his legs to start to cramp up from staying in the same position.

He checked his watch. Seven minutes to midnight. This was not how he'd pictured spending his Christmas, but he supposed he should have guessed it would be something like this. Sherlock hadn't shown any awareness over the last month or so that there was a massive holiday coming up. He'd ignored the decorations that had spread all over London, the overplayed carols, and John's increasingly less-than-subtle hints with the careful obliviousness that he usually saved for the washing up. John had given up with any hopes of having an actual Christmas Day with him, but he had at least been hoping to be able to spend the day quietly at home. That had probably been a bit naive, in hindsight.

He shifted his weight carefully to his other foot, stretching out his knee. It looked more like they were going to spend the whole night in this place, then all tomorrow chasing around trying to find where the smugglers had disappeared to. Well, if he'd wanted the kind of life where Christmas was a relaxing day with family and friends, he wouldn't be living with Sherlock.

There was a faint sound on the other side of the warehouse and they both froze in place. A moment or two later, Sherlock shook his head slightly and turned back to John.

“Just a rat,” he said quietly. John grimaced to himself and glanced around nervously at the floor.

There was silence for another few minutes, then Sherlock shifted slightly and cleared his throat. “I am sorry about this, John,” he said in the same low tone.

John blinked at him with confusion. “For what?”

“I had thought they'd be back by now,” said Sherlock. He glanced at his watch. “I suppose I should wish you a Merry Christmas.”

John glanced at his own watch. It was just past midnight. “Merry Christmas,” he returned in a resigned voice.

Sherlock glanced around the warehouse, then leaned forward and pressed a kiss against John's lips. John felt himself flush slightly at the unwarranted affection, surprised pleasure warming him for a brief moment. Sherlock was not a man given to such gestures, particularly not in public.

“We'll be finished with this case by tomorrow,” said Sherlock with confidence. “Then we can have a quiet day in. Perhaps watch more of those ludicrous spy films you like.”

“You hate those,” John pointed out.

Sherlock shrugged. “It's Christmas,” he said vaguely. There was a scraping noise from the front of the warehouse and they both tensed up, glancing around the crates as the front door started to swing open.

“Finally,” breathed Sherlock out silently. John shifted his position again, as quietly as he could, and took his gun out. Time for some action.


End file.
